


They're Hanging Mistletoe, They Kiss

by PadawanRyan



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Frenemies, Holiday Fic Exchange, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, One-sided Enemies to Lovers, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadawanRyan/pseuds/PadawanRyan
Summary: Patrick is blindsided when his roommate Joe tells him that hisnemesiswill be joining them for Christmas tree decorating festivities. It certainly doesn't help that Patrick is maybe just alittleattracted to said nemesis.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27
Collections: Have Yourself A Merry Little Fic Exchange





	They're Hanging Mistletoe, They Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voidboistump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidboistump/gifts).



> Happy holidays! I was looking forward to doing this fic exchange because honestly, I've never done anything like this. I did once do a "creative Secret Santa" with some IRL friends, which did involve me writing a fanfic for someone, but this still felt a bit different since I _knew_ the recipient. As a result, I was a little nervous about getting a prompt that I couldn't fulfill.
> 
> But, I got my prompt assignment and immediately I felt confident that I could write it. In fact, I started the next day so that I could make sure my idea actually came together well. It turned out slightly more angsty than I intended - which is like, how most of my fics go - but otherwise, I'm pretty happy with the result so I hope that you are too!
> 
> I'm sorry I couldn't work in the "slow burn" tag but I don't tend to write long enough fics to even _do_ a slow burn.

“Hey, so Pete’s coming over to help us decorate the tree,” should have been Joe’s last words. Patrick could have done it pretty swiftly too, Joe would not have seen it coming. But maybe he’d heard him wrong. “Come again?” he asked.

Joe, who was sitting on the couch with a PlayStation controller in his hand, did not even look away from the TV to repeat, “Pete’s coming over later to decorate.”

Okay, so Patrick had heard him correctly the first time.

His next question was, “Why?”

And as Joe just casually responded with, “well, why not?” Patrick mentally began preparing an entire argument. Why not? _Why not?_ Maybe because Pete was the bane of Patrick’s existence, his _nemesis_ , the last person he would want to decorate a Christmas tree with—okay, _nemesis_ was taking it a little too far, but Patrick did not get along with Pete.

The thing with Pete was that he had the potential to be someone important in Patrick’s life. He was a musician and while Patrick didn’t quite respect Pete’s idea of _music_ , he certainly respected that Pete was serious about his music. They had met because Joe, Patrick’s best friend and roommate, had wanted to start a band with both him and Pete, but Pete was…well, he spent that whole first meeting hitting on Patrick. It was a little rude, especially since Patrick knew that Pete was just taking the piss because nobody hits on Patrick. Pete was absolutely gorgeous and people like that do not like people like Patrick.

“Why not?” Patrick parroted back at Joe. “Well…you’re Jewish, for one.”

“So? You’re not.”

And, well…that was a pretty good response. Plus, technically they had already discussed it and agreed to put up a tree _and_ light a menorah (after all, they were two separate holidays, they could celebrate both). So, really, Patrick was grasping at irrelevant strings by bringing up the whole Jewish thing. And they already had Andy bringing over a tree after work, so it was too late to back out now.

Patrick was just going to have to deal with the fact that Pete motherfucking Wentz was going to be coming over in…less than five hours.

* * *

“Pattycakes!” Patrick didn’t even have enough time to glare at the unwelcome nickname before scrunching up his face in distaste at the big, loud, wet kiss Pete placed against his cheek.

“Get off me, you asshole,” he responded as he shoved away the slightly taller man.

Pete was not whatsoever deterred. As he backed off Patrick, he grinned his _stupid, gorgeous grin_ and asked, “Aww, ’Trick, don’t you love me?”

“No,” Patrick deadpanned. It would probably have had more heat in it if Patrick actually believed it, but he wasn’t quite willing to acknowledge that just yet. Pete was the annoying asshole who screamed like a cow giving birth onstage and pushed Patrick’s buttons offstage. Patrick didn’t like Pete and things were a lot simpler that way.

Pete didn’t seem too bothered by the response. “So, where’s this tree?” he asked.

“Andy’s on his way with it,” Patrick told him.

The older man sauntered past Patrick – surprising that he waited for Patrick to answer before just barging in, which was his custom – and plopped down on the couch beside Joe, picking up a second controller and bugging him to let Pete join the game. Patrick knew that it was a lost cause—Joe never let anyone join his games partway through. It was a quirk of his – you either start with him right at the beginning or wait until he’s finished – but in this case, Patrick would revel in watching Pete get shot down and pout about it all night. And if Patrick maybe thought that Pete had a cute pout, well, nobody had to know.

Patrick had barely stepped away from the door when there was another knock. Opening the door, he found Andy standing on the other end with a bundled up tree. “You could have called and we would have come downstairs to help you carry that thing up here,” Patrick said.

Andy shrugged. “No big, it wasn’t heavy.”

Somehow, Patrick doubted him. That tree was even taller than he was, but then again, what wasn’t?

He stepped aside to let Andy shuffle in, which got the attention of Pete – who was still pouting and trying to convince Joe to let him join the game anyway – and had the other man jumping from the couch to help. Small mercies, at least—Patrick supposed he could handle being stuck with Pete all evening if the man was being legitimately helpful.

And helpful he was. Andy and Pete together, directed by Patrick and sometimes getting a remark from Joe, managed to set the tree up right in the corner of the living room, in between the TV and the window looking out over the neighbourhood. Patrick and Joe lived on the sixth floor of their building so while it wasn’t quite as high as the tenth floor, they still got a good look down at the street, and sometimes even into the windows of the building across the street. Not that Patrick was a peeping Tom or anything—he just liked guessing what people might be watching on their TVs whenever he saw them through the windows.

The tree actually looked fantastic. It was definitely taller than Patrick, but not by as much as he expected when Andy brought it in. It was probably about the same height as Joe. “That means Joe puts on the tree topper,” Pete pointed out.

Patrick had to agree—Joe could handle the tree topper. Patrick would stick to the stuff he could reach.

And Pete…

Patrick wasn’t sure how he missed it, but Pete was already on the floor and laying under the tree. “Merry Christmas, ’Trick! I’m your gift!”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Oh, lucky me.”

“Aren’t you gonna open me?” Pete asked. Patrick couldn’t see his face, but he was sure that the other man was wiggling his eyebrows. He chose not to dignify the question with a response and walked into the kitchen to grab the eggnog so that they could all at least have a festive beverage while they decorated. Well, except Andy, who didn’t do animal by-products _or_ alcohol—and Patrick and Joe had already mixed whisky into the carton. Coming back out with the carton and a few glasses, Patrick was glad to see that Pete had come out from under the tree.

“What’s this?” Pete asked as Patrick poured him a drink. “Oh, ’Trick, you don’t have to get me drunk to get me out of my pants!” Patrick ignored the comment as he passed the glass to Pete, who still winked at the younger man as he took his first sip.

Surprisingly, decorating the tree did not go as disastrously as Patrick had expected.

Andy strung the lights on first, claiming that he didn’t trust Pete not to wrap them around himself (to which Patrick heartily agreed), and then he and Patrick took care of the middle of the tree while Joe took care of the top.

Pete, unsurprisingly, took the bottom, so he actually did spend much of the evening on the floor.

With his shirt riding up.

Patrick was practically choking on his own saliva while almost _drooling_ over the site. Patrick did not like Pete, and that included Pete’s sexy, olive-skinned torso.

If anything, he could blame the alcohol.

They actually drank through the eggnog pretty quickly too, after which Joe pulled the rest of their beers out of the fridge – there weren’t many left, but enough for Patrick, Joe, and Pete to each have one – and the whisky bottle from the cupboard. If Patrick was a little more sober, he would probably feel bad for Andy having to babysit the three of them, but as it was, Patrick was actually glad to have everyone there. He had never in his life had so much fun decorating the tree, even if he was forced to do it alongside Pete motherfucking Wentz. Of course, he would probably have to go back in the morning and fix their sloppy job.

“Hey ’Trick! Surprise!” Patrick whirled around to see what the hell Pete was talking about when suddenly, before he could even register what Pete was holding in his hands above them, a pair of soft, warm lips were on his.

Pete was kissing him. Pete was _kissing him_. Oh god, oh fuck, oh _no_ , what should he—

Pete moaned, causing Patrick to gasp and open his mouth.

And there was _Pete’s tongue_.

Okay, yeah, he could do that. Pete’s tongue was inside his mouth and touching _his_ tongue, tracing his teeth, exploring every crevice and Patrick…Patrick was enjoying every second of it. He kissed back fervently – he would _definitely_ blame this on the alcohol later – and reached forward to grab Pete’s hips, pulling him forward. Patrick was never usually this assertive, but god, something about Pete and Pete’s mouth and Pete’s _tongue_ inspired him—he wanted more, he was not going to be satisfied with just this. But then—

Pete pulled away.

Lips swollen and cheeks flushed, Pete looked at Patrick in wonder. He couldn’t stop staring. It was unnerving Patrick.

“Wow, ’Trick, I—”

Whatever Pete was going to say, Patrick never got to hear him finish. Now that Pete’s tongue was back in Pete’s mouth, which was at least a foot away from Patrick, he could feel him sobering enough to realize what had happened. Pete kissed him and Patrick actually kissed back, as though he actually _liked_ the prick, and Pete…oh god, Pete was no doubt going to use that particular act as a means to tease Patrick forever. He had never given into Pete’s rude jokes about how _cute_ Patrick was because this was exactly what he feared. Stepping back and looking away from Pete, Patrick turned and peeled right out of the room.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he reached his bedroom and closed the door, immediately panting as though he had just run a marathon. He kissed Pete, he kissed _Pete_ , what the _fuck_ had he been thinking?

This was bad. This was very bad.

Because even worse than realizing he had kissed Pete was the knowledge that he _liked_ it, and that maybe – just _maybe_ – he also liked _Pete_. Stupid fucking gorgeous Pete with his beautiful eyes and captivating, shit-eating grin.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Patrick slid down the door to the floor, pulling up his knees as he sat against it. His eyes were watering and tears were threatening to fall because he was finally realizing that he liked being around Pete. He liked everything about Pete, from his passion for music to his abhorrent fashion sense to his black-lined eyes to his stupid little comments about everything. And as much as Patrick hated that Pete was always fucking hitting on him, he actually liked that too—even if Pete _was_ taking the piss, he would miss it if Pete stopped.

Which he was no doubt going to do now, especially after Patrick walked out on him.

Well, fine.

Patrick would deal with it. Eventually.

He barely had time to think about how much it was going to hurt, losing this weird frenemy camaraderie with Pete, when there was a knock on the door followed by a soft, “Patrick? Are you in there?” It was Pete, and he sounded…well, Patrick couldn’t tell for sure, but Pete sounded nervous, worried, and sad all at once.

Patrick didn’t respond. He didn’t want to have to confront Pete. He just wanted to sit in his room all night and wallow.

“You don’t have to open the door,” Pete said, “but if you’re in there, I want you to listen, okay?” Patrick still did not respond but he supposed he would have to listen if Pete wouldn’t go away. “I’m sorry, ’Trick. I didn’t mean to do that. I mean, I _did_ mean to do that because I found the mistletoe in the ornament box and thought it was the perfect way to kiss you without coming on too strong, but I didn’t mean to scare you.” _I wasn’t scared_. “I didn’t mean to molest you,” _you didn’t molest me_ , “and if you never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand. I just…I want to say one thing first, okay?”

There was silence for a moment. Patrick was almost certain that Pete wasn’t going to say anything at all, that maybe he would give up and walk away, when, he heard a choked up, soft, “I love you,” from the other side of the door.

“I love you, ’Trick. I think I have from the first moment I saw you. And I know, you made it perfectly clear that you were not interested and I kept pushing—”

Patrick was on his feet before he even registered what he was doing, whipping the door open to see Pete – a _tear-stained Pete_ , oh _god_ , this was _all_ Patrick’s fault – looking at him with surprise. It was obvious that Pete had not expected Patrick to respond and open the door – maybe he wasn’t even sure Patrick had even been in there – and Patrick found that he had no idea what to say. Now that Pete was in front of him, he worried that Pete hadn’t been genuine. What if it had all been a big joke and Patrick just kept falling deeper and deeper?

But no, Pete looked way too distraught for this to be a joke. Pete was a shit actor.

“You love me?” Patrick asked.

The slightly taller man nodded, his face still apprehensive—clearly he wasn’t sure whether Patrick was happy or angry about it. “You love me?” Patrick asked again, feeling as though he really had to confirm it.

Pete nodded. “I love you,” he repeated.

Patrick reached out and grabbed Pete’s ratty, stained tee shirt – _this_ was the guy he was falling for? Really? – to pull him in, instantly connecting their mouths again. This time there was no hesitance, no confusion, no questions—Patrick put all of his weight into the kiss and practically _devoured_ Pete, who was just as hungrily enthusiastic in response. Pete’s hands cupped Patrick’s face and held him there as he practically plunged his tongue into Patrick’s throat, an action which caused Patrick to fight back, to retain dominance over the kiss. He began backing up, pulling Pete with him into his room, unconsciously making his way toward the bed, when—

“No,” Pete gasped, breaking the kiss. “Patrick, no, we can’t.”

Oh.

Well, fuck.

He really should have listened to his gut. Obviously Pete didn’t want to sleep with him, that was a stupid thought, why would he ever—

The look on his face must have given him away because Pete was suddenly pleading, “No, no, ’Trick, it’s not that. I love you, of course I want to be with you, and any other time I would, but…”

Patrick couldn’t help it. He prompted, “But?”

“You’re drunk,” Pete said simply. “Like, sure, I know you’re not _wasted_ , but we’re both pretty drunk. And I could never forgive myself for taking advantage of you,” he explained. Patrick opened his mouth, but Pete interrupted him before he could even speak. “I won’t hear it,” he told the younger man. “I want to do this _right_ and that means waiting until you’re sober to make sure that you still like me in the morning.”

Patrick could handle that, he supposed. Maybe it would just be prolonging the pain, but hey, shouldn’t he at least give Pete a chance to prove his sincerity?

“Plus,” Pete suddenly added. “Joe and Andy are still out there and probably listening to make sure we don’t kill each other.” And yeah, that was a actually pretty good argument. Poor Joe and Andy.

Patrick giggled.

Pete laughed in return.

The two of them stood there a moment and just laughed behind their tears, as though neither had just been crying only minutes earlier. God, Pete really was so fucking gorgeous. Patrick was so fucking infatuated with him—he wasn’t sure he could say he _loved_ Pete like Pete loved him, because he had spent so much time since they met dedicating his thoughts to _hating_ Pete (even if that didn’t quite work out the way he intended), but Patrick definitely felt _something_ for him. And he really _did_ want the opportunity to wake up to that smile in the morning without a hangover ruining the moment for them.

“Are you two still alive?” he suddenly heard Joe call from the living room. “Do we have to call the fire department? Hey Andy,” his voice lowered but Patrick could still hear him asking the other man, “does the fire department even help with crimes of passion?”

Patrick couldn’t stop smiling as he yelled back, “Yeah, we’re good! We’re…” This time his voice lowered and he looked into Pete’s eyes as he continued, “Really good.”

Pete smiled at him as though Patrick had just given him the entire world.

Patrick could get used to that.

The older man took Patrick’s hand in his and entangled their fingers. “How about we go let Joe put on the tree topper, hmm?” Patrick nodded to him and squeezed his hand back in encouragement. Pete walked the two of them down the hallway – not that they had very far to go; it was a small two-bedroom apartment in Chicago, not an LA mansion on MTV Cribs – while smiling at Patrick the entire time. As the two of them returned to the living room, Patrick did not miss the knowing glance that Joe and Andy shared. In Joe’s hand was the star – an heirloom Patrick’s mom had graciously passed onto him – and an eager look on his face. Patrick would never have guessed that Joe was so excited to decorate a Christmas tree.

He also never would have guessed that Pete loved him, or that he even liked Pete in return. But that was what the Christmas season was all about, wasn’t it?

Friendship. Love. Coming together.

 _Magic_.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is a Nightmare Before Christmas reference but considering how the fic went (purely by coincidence), it was perfect.
> 
> Any other readers: follow me on social media! I'm **padawanryan** on [Tumblr](https://padawanryan.tumblr.com/), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PadawanRyan), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/padawanryan/). ✌️


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